


In Sickness & Health

by earthseraph



Series: 30 Day OTP Christmas Challenge [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (just a cold), Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Snow, sick!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthseraph/pseuds/earthseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Steve,” Bucky sighed, rubbing at his temples, “I thought you said the serum prevents you from getting sick?”</p><p>(Day 9: Getting sick from the cold)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness & Health

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, well, this wasn't actually Day Nine's prompt but I think it matched up pretty well with yesterday's. (and I honestly couldn't write 1k+ about them in ugly sweaters..)

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, rubbing at his temples, “I thought you said the serum prevents you from getting sick?”

Steve shrugged from where he was laying under a pile of blankets, head pounding, and nose stuffed. He honestly didn’t think he could get sick either, but things just happen, he guesses. 

“That’s what happens when you go out in the fucking snow, _snow_ with no jacket and socks on, you idiot.” Bucky said rolling his eyes, not letting Steve answer, and walking towards their bed. 

“Well,” Steve said, sniffing- how he hates bugers-, “you married this idiot so you have nothin’ to complain about.” He stuck his left hand out the blanket to show off his ring before pulling it back in his cocoon of warmth. 

It’s not like Steve wanted to get sick. Hell, he hates getting sick and thought those days were behind him like being skinny and asthma was. But apparently they’re not, so he has to deal with it. ‘It’ being a runny nose, sore throat, and his head feeling like it weighs more than a thousand pounds. 

Steve moved into the warmth of Bucky’s hand when it was pressed to his forehead smiled when he heard Bucky muttering, “Don’t know why I ever did something as dumb as marrying you.” 

“Cause you love me.” Steve replied, probably smiling like an idiot- but he can blame being sick on that. 

“Sure do,” Bucky said, snorting at Steve’s smile, and starting to move away before Steve caught his wrist.

“Don’t go, Buck.” He whined, pressing Bucky’s hand down to his face and leaning into it. 

Bucky leaned down and kissed his cheek before slipping his hand out, “I’ll be right back, Stevie, baby, gonna’ make you some soup like I used to and get you all warm. Maybe I’ll call Bruce and ask what he knows about super soldiers getting sick.”

Steve gave Bucky his most dramatic-puppy dog-pout, hoping it would get Bucky to stay- but to no avail. 

“Lemme’ get some food in your stomach first, then I’ll cuddle you up, okay?” Bucky returned the smile, making Steve’s heart melt into a puddle of chocolate.

Steve looked Bucky up and down, slightly dropping the pout, “Fine. Make it fast though, Buck, I’m getting sleepy again.”

Bucky widened his smile, giving him one more kiss on the cheek, “Okay, kitten.”

Steve snorted at the new nickname and watched Bucky leave- _that ass_ \- before pulling himself back into the warmth of all the blankets he had grabbed the night before when he felt a slight chill coming on- and shouldn’t that have been a sign?

It’s been decades since he had last been sick and, boy, does he not miss it. Sure he misses Bucky’s coddling and mother henning, but not the actual feeling of being sick. _To think it used to be worse than now_ , Steve thought to himself. Before he’d have to deal with asthma, pneumonia, hay fever, you name it and he probably had it. Now, though, it’s the common cold. 

And it’s the common cold that’s besting him. 

It’s honestly not his fault that he got excited when snow started falling in front of their little brownstone the morning before. He ran out, sans anything to protect him against the strong winter winds and just stood. That’s all he did, he stood outside at some ungodly hour of the morning, watching the snow flutter down from the sky like something right out of a movie. He let himself there for a couple handful of minutes before Bucky came out, all bundled up, a moody little pout on his lips, asking Steve why he was outside and not in bed. And all Steve could do was pull Bucky close in his arms, move into the other man’s warmth, and explain to him in one word: _snow_. 

It’s been a while since he got to enjoy snow like he did yesterday.

After they found him in the ice anything cold- showers, pools, ice, _snow_ \- had put him on edge. It made him think of a train, and a plane, both things that killed parts of himself that he needed. It wasn’t until Bucky came back to him, Brooklyn accent on his tongue, a scar on his chin, and memories flooding out of his mouth like a dam had been broken that he didn’t relate snow or coldness to death. But for a point in time, while he was healing, Bucky did. So, they got better together. They both slowly came to terms that cold did not equalling danger, that ice didn’t mean one of them was dying or being brainwashed. 

And then it started snowing yesterday morning and Steve was just so excited that he couldn’t wait. So, he stood outside- Bucky eventually joining him- until the other man promised that they’d go to the park in a couple of hours when normal people were awake and the snow was thicker.

Curling further into the blankets, and sniffing back runny snot, Steve didn’t care that he got sick. Sure it felt like some torturous hell, but he’d do it all over again if it meant he was able to run around in the snow like a kid, with his husband, neither of them caring about a thing in the world but each other. He’d get sick over and over and over again like before if it meant a little fun for him and Bucky. And, yeah, Bucky would probably smack him on the back of his head if he admitted that out loud because he’s being self sacrificing- again- but, Steve really doesn’t care. Not if it means a little happiness and carelessness. 

“Hey, punk,” Bucky called, foot steps moving closer to Steve, “wanna eat something?”

Steve poked his head out of the blankets and sniffed the air, bugers making a nasty wet sound, “Depends on what you made.” the ‘jerk’ was left off but he knew that Bucky knew it was there.

Bucky raised the tray he was carrying ever so slightly before he set it down on the nightstand, “Got some tomato soup and a grilled cheese.” 

Steve hummed happily at the selection of food and watched as Bucky rearranged all the contents on the tray before eyeing Steve, “Can you push yourself up the bed or do I gotta help you?” 

Rolling his eyes, Steve pushed himself up the bed, slightly swaying like a twiggy tree in the wind, and his head pounding, but he got himself up, “I got a cold, Buck. Not the Spanish Influenza.” 

“Just making sure you can get up without hurting yourself,” Bucky muttered and picked up the tray again, “now scooch a bit, gonna let you lean on me while you eat.”

“Buck-”

Bucky shook his head, “Nope, don’t wanna’ hear it. If I let you eat on your own you’re gonna probably spill everything and burn your lap.”

Steve rolled his eyes but moved aside- anyways, it’s not like he’d give up cuddling with Bucky out of sheer stubbornness. He let Bucky lean fully against their headboard before letting his weight rest against the other man- the warmth seeped from Bucky like he was Steve’s personal heater and Steve could feel his eyelids getting heavy with want for sleep and Bucky’s arms. 

“Stay awake a little longer for me, Stevie, gotta’ get some food in your belly.” Bucky said softly, raising the spoon of soup to Steve’s lips. 

Steve shot Bucky a glare- because he can damn well feed himself, even if he’s sleepy, and sick, and Bucky’s warm- but took the spoon of soup and a bite of the grilled cheese when offered. (the mixture warm and nice as it settled in Steve’s stomach and he couldn’t keep glaring at Bucky for long when started feeling better) 

They continued that pattern. Bucky raising up whatever food to Steve, taking a few bites for himself, offering the drink to Steve before taking his own sip, all the while humming sweetly under his breath, but otherwise being silent. 

When the bowl was half done and Steve swore on his Ma’s grave that he couldn’t eat more, Bucky set the try to the side, dusted crumbs off the sheets, and Steve took the opportunity to curl into Bucky’s side- ignoring the fact that Bucky was trying to clean their bed off. He rested his head on Bucky’s chest, listening to the other man’s heartbeat, wrapped arms around Bucky’s torso, let their legs tangle. 

“Remember when we use to do this back in the day? When you were really sick?” Bucky said after a comfortable stretch of silence.

Steve nodded, eyes too heavy to open, “I think that’s the only reason I liked being sick.”

“‘Cause I would cuddle you up?” Bucky asked with a twinge of amusement in his voice, fingers carding through Steve’s hair.

“Yep.” Steve said quietly, “That’s when I really knew you were mine and not some other pretty dame’s.” he nestled closer to Bucky and sighed happily, “Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too, Stevie.” Bucky said, leaning down to kiss Steve’s forehead, “Now get some sleep.”

Steve nodded. He could feel his body sinking deeper into Bucky and the bed, mind fuzzy, stomach content and warm with food, and Bucky’s soft but husky voice singing him to sleep,

_“Stars shining bright above you; Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me..._

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr!](http://santabuck.tumblr.com/)


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